SORCEROUS SIGNALS
Written by James S. Dorr / Artwork by Holly Eddy
When Cats Are Away
























"Whore! Night skulker! Huntress by moonlight!"

Tana cringed at the words shouted at her, even though she'd expected no better, then shook the
afternoon snow from her hair. She pushed the tavern door closed behind her, kicking distastefully at a
rat that scampered, suddenly, out from its shadow. She strode to the table the shouts had come from,
her eyes fixed on the magician who sat there with three other men.

"Harlot," the magician continued, his voice still strident, if not quite as loud now. The others, dressed as
roughly as he was, had ceased their talking altogether. "Companion to camel drivers throughout the city
of Trebizond. Fickle betrayer. Dealer in slaves."    

"Balthyon," Tana said, noting that, for all the poorness of his clothes, the man was still handsome.

"Tana the thief." He turned to the others. "Gentlemen, let me introduce you to my…um…wife."

"Balthyon," Tana said again—now one of the others, a large stocky man, had started to chuckle. "I am
not your wife. I…."

"Traitress. You had me sold to a slave auctioneer."

"I did not sell you. I…."

"Balthyon," the chuckling man interrupted. "You'd best listen to your woman, I think, if only because she
has such beautiful raven hair. I dare say, also, that…."

Tana's glare reduced him to silence. "Balthyon," she said, "I did not have you sold. I simply had a notice
posted with the guard that said that you were already a slave—one who had escaped in Dioscuras. I
owed you that much and, from what I hear, you were captured fairly."

"And so I had to 'escape' again." Balthyon's voice began to lower until it became a caressing purr. "And
without any thanks to you who now live, I hear, among the rich in the merchants' quarter on profits
from goods that were rightly mine…."

"You had sold me before that, Balthyon, and after, when we had come back together, you would have
cheated me of my just share…."

"…while I," Balthyon went on, his voice still low, but taking a hard edge, "must live in the waterfront
district in squalor, scarcely daring, in spite of all my knowledge and power, to venture beyond in the
daylight hours for fear I might be captured again." He stood up, suddenly, raising his hand as if to strike
Tana. "Bad wife," he whispered.

"Balthyon, a truce," Tana said, standing her ground. She smiled at the man who had once been her
lover, in what she hoped was her most charming manner, then watched with satisfaction as the magician
returned his hand to his side. "You left me for a Circassian doxy, but now, I beg you, let us have a truce.
A booth, with curtains, where we can talk and…."

"She wants you back, Balthyon," another of his companions said. "I'd take her up on it. If I don't miss
my guess, she's almost as pretty as even a Circassian woman beneath those dark robes, although, I
grant, perhaps a bit slender."

The man who'd chuckled before laughed out loud, this time joined by the others, and Tana felt the blood
rush to her cheeks. She opened her outer robe to reveal the three knives she carried thrust through her
sash, then placed her hand on the hilt of the longest.

"A booth," she repeated, gratified by the sudden new silence, "where we can talk without your
companions."

"Bringer of pestilence," Balthyon whispered, but now he smiled too. "Gentlemen," he said, raising his
voice to a more normal conversational tone, "you heard the lady." He waited until the last had left, then
made a point of dusting off the chair nearest to Tana. "They don't have booths here, but I think we can
talk now without interruption."

Tana sat down and waited in silence while Balthyon ordered a pitcher of wine. "It's the red bitter," he
finally said when their glasses had been filled. "The kind you like best, if I remember. You'll be paying for
it."

"Yes," Tana whispered. She tasted her wine. "Balthyon," she said, "I've been looking all over—I'd heard
you'd escaped—and I spent the whole morning and most of last night until I was told you were likely to
be here. I need"—she lowered her eyes to her wineglass and swallowed hard—"I need your help,
Balthyon."

"My help? Or just that of a magician?" Balthyon continued to smile—a seductive smile Tana knew all too
well. She swallowed again.         

"Last month," she went on, "I stole a jewel—you know I like jewelry. Even though I had no need of it I
am—yes—a thief and last month, at the full moon, I found myself in the foreigners' quarter of the city
watching a procession come out of the Temple of Bast. Apparently, in the crowd, there were members of
rival cults—there was a disturbance and stones were thrown."

"The cult of Bast?" Balthyon's smile took on a mocking twist. "That's the goddess who rules over Egypt,
is it not, Tana? I hadn't thought you would be getting religious, but, if you feel a need for belief, surely
there are gods closer to home…."

"Balthyon, I'm frightened—not for myself, but for the whole city. Haven't you noticed the rats in this
tavern?"   

"There are always rats in a waterfront tavern…."

"But not as many as now, I dare say—and it's not just a case of winter driving them inside. Anyway, as I
was telling you, stones were thrown and in the confusion a man from the crowd attacked the throne the
processioners carried. He snatched a jewel from the neck of the chief priest and, almost as quickly, he
disappeared."

"A thief like you, Tana. And were you jealous he'd snatched it first?"

"I had, shall we say, a professional interest. I'd marked the manner of his clothing and went, myself, in
the direction he had taken. Soon enough, I found him again, heading into an alley, and…not to mince
words…the jewel is now mine."

"How good for you, Tana. And have you come here to seek a buyer and, if I can help, share the proceeds
with me?"

"I will share my other goods, Balthyon, if you can help me. But first hear me out. I mentioned the rats—
several weeks afterward, in my apartments, I noticed a mouse. I shooed it away, then went to my chest
for clothes for the evening. My chest was filled with gnawing mice, Balthyon, ruining the finest of my
gowns, so I put on the old, black, tattered cloak you see me wearing and went to the bazaar."

"To buy a cat, mayhap?"

"To buy a cat, Balthyon. To combat the mice. But there are no cats to be had in Trebizond—all the cats
seem to have disappeared. And, I am told, there is not much grain in the storehouses of the city either
because, without cats, the mice and rats are free to invade them."   

Balthyon stopped smiling. "Tana," he said, his voice serious now, "I've heard, too, that there's a danger
of a grain shortage. Some say the city could starve before spring—before the passes are free of snow or
the harbor open for incoming ships. I'd thought these were just rumors before, but food has already
become more expensive…."

"Then will you accept my truce offer? Half the profit you say I took from you if you will help me. Since, if
no one can enter the city, we're caught here in danger of starving together, will you agree to a truce until
springtime?"

"I don't know, Tana. I don't understand what…."

"The truce first, that neither of us will lie or do harm to the other until we've both felt the first breath of
springtime, and then ask your questions. Swear to it, Balthyon." Tana paused—she looked into the
magician's eyes and saw that, while there was some spark of desire, he still seemed unsure how to make
his decision. "And one more thing, Balthyon, I'll add to my offer. A sharing of quarters."

"Very well," Balthyon finally said. He smiled again. "I will swear to a truce until spring. After all, from what
I've heard, your quarters are hardly lacking in comfort. Nevertheless, I still don't understand what you
have to do with the city's troubles."

"The man I talked to in the bazaar—about buying a cat—turned out to be a member, himself, of the cult
of Bast. He said the reason there were no cats was that a certain jewel had been stolen from the chief
priest of the goddess' temple. The jewel, it seems, belonged to the goddess—between processions it
hangs from the left hand of her statue—and…."

"Your jewel, Tana?"

"My jewel, Balthyon—I have it with me. The goddess is angry and, it turns out, the people of Egypt
believe Bast is the goddess of cats. She's taken the cats away from Trebizond and won't return them
unless the jewel is placed back on her hand in time for her temple's next procession."

"And that time would be…?"

"The zenith of the next full moon after it was stolen. That's midnight tonight—the priests will go into the
temple's sanctum in hopes the jewel, through some kind of miracle, has been restored. If not, the cat-
seller told me he feared that, instead of conducting their normal procession, the priests might march on
the warehouse district and torch the granaries, finishing up the work the rats and mice have started."

"I still don't understand why you need me," Balthyon said. "Or any magician. The answer is simple—all
you need do is convey the jewel to the nearest priest and…."

"There is a catch, Balthyon. The cat-seller told me that anyone even holding the jewel, unless it be the
chief priest who carries it in the procession, will have committed a blasphemous act. This is an act, as
glad as they might be to have the jewel back, that they punish by death. Therefore, the priests have
armed guards posted in all the streets that surround the temple just on the off chance the thief might
try to return it."

"I see," Balthyon said, "but if you intend that I use my magic to take the jewel to the goddess for you, I
still cannot help. The temple sanctum would be too holy for magic to work there—unless, of course, such
magic be the goddess' own."

Tana laughed. "The dealer in cats said something much like that to me as well—he thought it was funny.
But I am a thief. If you could assist me, perhaps with a spell of some kind or other so no one would see
me—or maybe some way to distract the guard—I, who am skilled at removing items from similar places,
could surely sneak the goddess' jewel back to her statue myself."

~ * ~

"A cloak of invisibility, then, and a distraction," Balthyon had said after he and Tana had left the tavern.
They'd gone to his quarters where, he admitted, mice had also harmed his belongings until he'd set a
spell to prevent them. He'd worked then in silence, leaving Tana to sit on a rat-gnawed couch by herself,
until, scarcely more than an hour short of midnight, he'd told her to strip.

"Is this the time, Balthyon?" Tana had said. "I mean, perhaps afterward, if we succeed…."

"Be silent and take your clothes off, woman," Balthyon said. "Then put this around you." He handed her
a cloak that was blacker than even the one she wore as a thief—so black she almost thought she could
see the moon and stars in it—and she stripped herself naked, except for the jewel that hung like a cold
coin between her breasts, and did as he said.

"Now go to the mirror and look at yourself. Tell me what you see."

Tana did so—she caught her breath quickly in hopes that, in that way, her voice would remain calm. "I
see the walls of a magician's study. They need a cleaning. I see the couch I've been sitting on. I see…."   

"What don't you see?"

"I see your point, Balthyon. And the diversion?"

Balthyon had smiled then, an evil smile and yet one Tana still found too attractive. She'd followed him
down the twisting stairs to the street below and now Tana stood, alone, in an alley a block from the
temple.

She shrank back against a rough stone wall as the temple guard passed a second time—Balthyon had
told her she must wait there until he was ready. At that time, he'd told her, she'd know what to do—
she'd be on her own—but he hadn't told her the cloak, though created by magic, would give her no
warmth. Tana cursed Balthyon under her breath—the wall had ice on it!—and worse, as he had warned
her would be required, her feet were bare.

She tried not to make a sound as she shivered. The guardsmen had stopped and were looking right
through her. Then she heard a high-pitched squeal from beyond the temple and, as the guards turned,
saw a glowing, rodent-like image take form in the dark night sky.

Balthyon's twisted humor, she thought, as, making sure her cloak was wrapped tightly over her head as
well as around her, she ran toward the temple. A giant mouse, or so it might seem to those who first
saw it, was threatening Bast. She dodged more guards who streamed out of the courtyard, and then the
priests and acolytes from the temple proper. She dashed through the gates—the outer temple was
already empty, she noted in passing—and then through the double doors into the holiness of the
sanctum. She turned and pulled the doors shut behind her.

She sank to the temple floor, catching her breath, and took the jewel on its cord from her neck. She
looked around her, drinking in the gold-inlaid marble of the walls, the tessellated arch of the ceiling, until
her eyes fell on a gown that hung on a frame in one corner. A gown a goddess might wear, she thought,
until, no longer able to put off her mission, she finally gazed on the statue itself.

It stood on a platform, wrapped in a gown as rich as the first one, its left hand outstretched and its
features serene. She looked in its eyes, slanted and cat-like and on a level with her own once she'd
regained her feet and crept up beside it. "You're beautiful, Goddess," she said in a whisper, placing the
jewel's cord with careful gentleness in its palm. "I would have returned this far more quickly had I only
known."
 
She almost laughed then—reverence from a thief, of all people! And then she looked down and saw she
was naked.

"Balthyon planned this," she said, the words still whispered aloud. She felt sudden fear—her cloak had
been taken. She turned from the statue and leaped to the floor, already hearing the sounds of armed
men regaining their posts in the outer temple, and rushed to the corner to where the goddess' extra
gown hung. She reached—then stopped.
 
"No," she whispered. "Balthyon may have broken his oath, but, in any event, there's no sense in my
blaspheming further. A thief does not steal a goddess' own clothes."

"Then take them as a gift from me, Tana."

She whirled back and saw the statue of Bast descend from its platform. Its—her—voice was pleasant,
low and lisping, the sound a cat's voice might utter if it spoke the words of a woman. "G…Goddess?" she
stammered.

"I am Bast, Tana. The jewel you returned acts for me as my eyes and ears—that is the way I know your
name. That is also why it is important that, every full moon, my jewel be carried in procession around the
city. That is the only way I can find out what needs to be done for the good of my people."

"I…I'm sorry, Goddess. I didn't intend…."

"I know that too, Tana, as well as that Balthyon did not break his oath to you. He said before he created
the cloak his magic would be destroyed in my presence. Now take the gown quickly and put it on, as well
as the slippers you'll find beneath it, lest the sight of you standing unclothed fulfill too well his second
promise—that of distracting my priests and my men."

"I…I thank you, Goddess." Tana turned back and put on the clothing as she'd been told, amazed that it
fitted her body so well. When she'd put on the slippers too, she looked again toward the sanctum's
platform and saw Bast was now holding a kitten.

"Another present for your apartments," the goddess said, smiling softly at Tana. "I understand you have
a need, although I will ask that it be returned later. Now, come here beside me—it is almost midnight
already. When my chief priest sees us standing together, he will make certain no one who serves me will
dare to harm you."

"I thank you again, Goddess," Tana said, "even if I don't understand why you're being so kind. I only
returned what was rightfully yours and…."   

"Hush now and realize that, among men, I possess many names. One of these is 'Patron Goddess of
Hunting by Moonlight.' You and I, Tana, have something in common."   

~ * ~

With due respect to the goddess' kindness, Tana thought as she stood outside the door to her
apartments, the gowns she wears give no more protection from Trebizond's cold than Balthyon's cloak
did. She fumbled at the latch with one hand, cradling the kitten with the other, when the door suddenly
swung open before her.

"Tana," a voice said—Balthyon's voice. She heard a rustling, then an oil lamp flared into brilliance. "I…I
didn't expect you'd be back so soon. I found my own way here and. . . ."

"It's almost dawn, Balthyon," Tana said. "Bast's chief priest insisted I join their procession and, given the
situation I found myself in, I felt it would not be right to refuse."

"I…I'm glad you're back, Tana." Balthyon smiled—his most charming smile. "I would have waited outside
the temple, except that I thought…."

"Perhaps that I might not return at all?" She looked at him closely. "No, don't try to answer. I like you
well enough as you are—at least for the moment—and I'm too tired in any event to try to counter your
ready excuses. I trust you've warmed my bed well for me?"

Balthyon gazed silently at the floor until, at the sound of a distant scraping, he finally stepped back out
of Tana's way. He closed the apartment door behind her. "Is that a kitten? Let me see, Tana."

Tana nodded. She carried the kitten into her bedroom while Balthyon followed—her bed had been slept
in, she couldn't help noticing, and, despite the cold of the morning, her window was open. She pulled it
shut, not bothering to look in the alley outside, then placed the kitten down on the bed and stroked it
until it began to purr.

"It doesn't have a name yet," she said, sitting beside it. She kicked her slippers off her feet. "It's only
borrowed."

"Look at that, Tana." Balthyon bent down to inspect it more closely. "Isn't it cute. It…."

Balthyon suddenly stood up again, his hand on his cheek. Blood welled out between his fingers. "It
scratched me, Tana!"

"Did it, Balthyon?" Tana lay back, too weary, even, to finish undressing, and let her body sink into the
bed's soft, silk covered pillows. "It is a cute creature, with claws sharp as steel—and proof against magic.
A pledge from the goddess, to help us guard against breaking of truces. For now, though, I need sleep
and, when I awaken, might I expect to find you still here with a hot bath drawn and a breakfast fixed for
me?"

"Under the circumstances…mayhap," Balthyon answered. "I'll put the lamp out in just a moment so you
can rest better. However, concerning the goddess' kitten, you did say, I think, it was only borrowed?
Perhaps you could tell me how long you will keep it."

"Gladly, Balthyon," Tana replied. She looked up at the magician and smiled. "The goddess suggested I
needn't return it until it was springtime."
James Dorr's collections STRANGE MISTRESSES: TALES OF WONDER AND ROMANCE
and DARKER LOVES: TALES OF MYSTERY AND REGRET are published by Dark Regions
Press while other work has appeared in ALFRED HITCHCOCK'S MYSTERY MAGAZINE,
NEW MYSTERY, ABORIGINAL SF, FANTASTIC, DARK WISDOM, GOTHIC.NET,
CHI-ZINE, ENIGMATIC TALES (UK), FAERIES (France), and numerous anthologies. Dorr is
an active member of SFWA and HWA, an Anthony and Darrell finalist, a Pushcart Prize nominee,
and a multi-time listee in THE YEAR'S BEST FANTASY AND HORROR.  

Up to date information on Dorr is at jamesdorrwriter.wordpress.com